


Old Missions, New Plans

by RoninReverie



Series: Old Kanera Fanfiction [6]
Category: Star Wars: Rebels
Genre: Cuddling & Snuggling, Dancing, F/M, Mos Eisley, Nightmares, kanan comics, sleepover
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-27
Updated: 2016-01-27
Packaged: 2019-04-26 05:21:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,205
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14395182
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RoninReverie/pseuds/RoninReverie
Summary: Tatooine Arc: 3/5As Kanan and Hera react to their time at Jabba's Palace, Chopper has ulterior motives for coming to the planet of Tatooine, and puts his long overdue plans into action.





	Old Missions, New Plans

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted on Tumblr: [Link!](http://roninreverie.tumblr.com/post/138195191434/old-missions-new-plans)
> 
>  **IMPORTANT!** This series was written before the second half of season 2 aired on television, so all content is based on my headcanons after season 1 and the "A New Dawn" novel. 
> 
> It said Chopper was manufactured on Lasan, so I thought it was related to Zeb somehow...
> 
> This is a direct continuation of "Escape" (the previous chapter)

_“He’s not dead?!”_

_“I’m going to enjoy ending the traitor.”_

_“Don’t you see? The Jedi never betrayed the republic. We died with it!”_

_“Nice try. Hope you’re ready to die, kid.”_

_“Not ready. And don’t call me kid.”_

_“Caleb no!”_

Kanan rose.

He ran a hand through his hair and took in a few breaths. It was nice—having air. Dreaming like you couldn’t breathe was a common nightmare for most lifeforms, but for Kanan, it was a memory, and one he hoped he never had to live through again. He _almost_ didn’t live through it the  _first_  time.

“Kanan?” Hera knocked on the door, allowing it to open without his permission.

“Hey…” he said simply.

“I heard yelling,” she said. “Was it a nightmare again?”

“Yeah…” Kanan rose and stretched his tired muscles. “But, I ended them years ago, so there’s nothing to worry about.”

“The clones?” She guessed.

He rubbed his eyes and looked over to her.

“Yeah, it was just the—”

He stopped suddenly when he saw the bounty hunter, Boba Fett, waiting in the doorway behind Hera. He didn’t even have time to warn her, before he saw her gunned down to the floor.

“Hera!”

He rose to his feet as his hand beckoned for a lightsaber to suddenly appear. It slid out from under the bed and into his hand, igniting without a second thought  _like an old reflex_. The blue light poured over the room, covering everything in deep shadows and sharp cyan outlines.

He pulled the saber to his face, and glared towards the intruder.

“You’ll regret that!”

The bounty hunter did not speak, he only removed his helmet to reveal that copied face of a clone soldier. The smile he wore was stained in blood.

Another clone in Fett’s armor appeared in the corner, when he removed his helmet, his face revealed a scar across the eye,  _just like_  the forgotten face of Commander Grey. 

Another appeared and Kanan followed their multiplication with his sword, the room growing more and more cluttered. Soon a whole army of clones were in his chamber, only now, Hera was no longer on the floor and he was no longer in his pajamas, but wearing his old Jedi uniform.

They charged for him ravenously, their arms outreached to grapple him and rip him apart. He sliced at hands as the mob swarmed him, but with a simple swing of his arm, Kanan noticed that the lightsaber had suddenly vanished. Still, he stood his ground  _weapon or no._

“This is a dream!” he told himself. “Nothing but a dream! Wake up!”

He turned his head, and everything in the dark room had vanished. 

He was still in his bed, in the dark comfort of his chamber, completely alone. Kanan took a breath, only to see it as a cloud of cold in front of his face. He shivered, but sighed with relief that the nightmare was over.

With a yawn, Kanan turned his face and met the deathly paled skin of his old master, her face was covered in blood and her eyes blank and lifeless. He fell from his bed onto the floor and scrambled to a stand as her ghostly voice shot to his position and began breathing only inches from his face. Her mouth began to open, much wider than any human’s jaw was supposed to go, and he her voice felt like the chill on ice.

“Run…” she moaned suddenly.

Kanan backed away and the room suddenly burst into flames, Master Billaba’s voice rising…

_“RUN!”_

* * *

_“Gah!”_

Kanan awoke with a gasp only to hear the light swooshing of his bedroom door opening.

He rubbed his tired eyes and noticed Hera waiting in his doorway, her blanket draped across her shoulders while her knuckles clutched the sides hard enough to make her hands tremble.

He wiped at the sweat on his face and tapped lightly on his own cheek to make sure that this was true reality. When he was sure that it was, he took another breath, and without a second thought, shoved his nightmare to the back of his mind.

“Bad one?” He asked Hera knowingly.

Her eyes revealed shame and embarrassment, but she nodded and Kanan made room for her.

Hera dreamt that she was a slave to Jabba the Hutt. She was forced to wear degrading clothing, dance around his floor in chains, and massage him whenever he felt the need to pleasure himself with contact. She could still feel the coarse outer skin caked with slime—the tongue that made its way across her bare flesh. The one and only good thing that came out of the dream was when he’d sacrificed her to whatever monster lay at the bottom of the pit in his floor— _at least then_ she was able to wake up.

When she had, all Hera could feel was the slime. The texture of the Hutt was everywhere, on her bed, on the top bunk, on her floor. There was only one place for comfort now, and she knew that it lie with Kanan. 

It had been like this for the last few months.

It happened right after they had gotten back from Rion. Their third night at that hotel, Kanan and Hera didn’t see much point in either of them alternating or volunteering to sleep on the floor. They kept their distance, but ultimately the two had ended up sharing the bed in the hotel suite, and while they did, each one of them realized that their nightmares had completely gone away when they were sleeping in the same room as one another.

So on those  _really_  rough nights…the ones where sleep was impossible and every part of their bodies ached with sour memories or make believe terrors—it was on those nights that Hera and Kanan would have a sleepover.

She ducked into the bunk and curled up on the top of Kanan’s sheets. He put an arm around her waist and rested his head on top of hers, his chin finding refuge between her lekku. He could feel the tension leave her body as soon as he’d made contact.

“Which one was it this time?” Kanan yawned.

It was an odd feeling, the way his jaw moved on her head, the scratchy chin hairs brushing against her scalp. She wondered if that was what it felt like to have hair. It was odd,  _but nice._

“The Hutts…” Hera replied calmly.

With all that happened on Tatooine, it wasn’t surprising. Hera wasn’t known to fear much. Her past was an obvious one, the guilt she felt could be assumed, death and loss was only natural, but one physical fear that she felt was for a Hutt. After all of the stories she’s heard, the slaves she’s met— _Twi’lek or not_ — the process of it all, and the fact that she almost became a part of that on multiple occasions—it wasn’t unnatural for her to have nightmares about it now.

“That doesn’t surprise me…” Kanan said, his voice sincere as he held her closer. “You wanna talk about it?”

She shook her head and put her arm against his. He always felt so warm despite how cool and clammy his skin was.

Hera’s skin was much warmer and dryer than his was— _it was just in her design_. But even with that, Kanan’s warmth was something much stronger than just the touch. It was a feeling of some sort that she could not quite explain—something in the way he held her— _it was comforting._

“You feel worried…” She deduced his mood from that single touch and asked afterwards… “Which one did you have?”

Kanan sighed. There was no hiding  _anything_  from her.

“Clones…” he yawned, adding… “The bounty hunter too, but it’s nothing serious.”

She hugged his arm and let herself fall into his shape. He was lying, but at the same time,  _he wasn’t._  It was a complicated façade that he had. He was too stubborn for his own good and hardly admitted his fears. That much wasn’t Kanan’s fault though, she could blame  _that_  on the Jedi. They’d taught him from a very young age that he wasn’t allowed to even feel fear, much less admit to it. Kanan was human after all—sometimes she wondered if he’d forgotten that  _himself_.

“Do you want to talk about it?” She hummed, her eyes closing as the secure coziness overcame her.

He shook his head.

She  _knew_  he was going to say that.

Kanan used the moment of silence to change the subject. When either of them didn’t feel like telling their stories, then they would distract one another with questions. He jumped at the opportunity to learn more about her.

It was funny, how they have been traveling in these short few years together and knew everything about one another and the way their minds worked—yet they still had secrets between them after all this time.  _However,_  if one of them asked a simple enough question, the other would gladly offer up an answer.

“Tell me something good about Ryloth.”

Hera shut her eyes and cradled his arm to her face. He had gotten out of another talk again. The last time he’d done this, she ended up telling him about her and her sister. What story could he be itching at this time?

“Like what?”

“Well…” he thought. “How about something you miss?”

Her face crinkled slightly. “Something I miss,  _huh?”_

She could feel him smiling on top of her.

“Yeah…something that you can only get on Ryloth,” he whispered.

That ruled out family and flying. Hera hadn’t thought about anything else involving her home planet for quite some time. Growing up was rough enough. There was the terrible war, the harsh weather, the oppression, Lylek attacks, and the constant problems with starvation and slavery. Ryloth wasn’t much of a hotspot in her eyes. Still…there had to be  _something?_

“I miss the dancing…”

Her melodic voice hummed with memories, making Kanan’s body tense up. She felt it, and knew then that she had just surrendered her sleep to him with just those four simple words.

“Dancing?” He wondered, his eyes springing back open as he sat up on his elbow. “I thought you said that you hated dancing?”

Hera rolled over and stared at the top bunk.

“I said that I hated  _the way_  they  _make_  us dance,” she said. “But back on Ryloth, it was something entirely different. We danced for celebration—for freedom and fun—it’s nothing like you see anywhere else. Mostly, we were just trying to distract ourselves from the other hardships that were above ground.”

“Like the war?”

She blinked, her green eyes lighting up the dark.

“Yeah…”

Kanan swallowed, but went back down, starring upward with Hera as they peered into the dark together.

“Did you ever do it?”

“Dance?” she almost laughed. “Of course!” She rolled her eyes and started to mumble. “I mean, I was very young, and my father would rather I had military knowledge than dancing skills—but I was just a kid! I liked to copy the groups as they performed.”

“Oh really?” Kanan’s voice practically dripped with intrigue. He sat up and turned on the lights. “Show me!”

Hera laughed as she rubbed the blind spots out of her eyes. “Dream on, Kanan! I’m not going to dance for you.”

His smile grew. “Come on!” He waved a hand through the air. “I’m curious now. You have to show me.”

 _“Goodnight Kanan…”_  she hummed, ignoring his persistent advances and little nudges or peer pressure with a patience of pure steel.

He smirked. There was a devious twinkle in his eyes and that crooked grin of his began to shrink as Kanan started to lay back down.

“Fine!” he said, faking a yawn afterwards. His voice was sarcastic and exaggerated. “I knew you couldn’t  _really_  dance to begin with, but it’s sweet that you wanted me to believe it. I just didn’t know that you wanted to impress me  _that_  badly?”

Hera scoffed. “That isn’t going to work, Kanan…”

“Oh, I know!” He smirked. “But it is what I’ll choose to believe until you prove me otherwise.”

She slammed the pillow on top of her face. Her speech was muffled, but Kanan could hear her long sigh of aggravation.

“You’re not going to let up on this, are you?”

“Not on your life!” He laughed.

 _“Fine!”_  She huffed and sat up, smacking him once in the face with the pillow before rising from the bunk. “But if you so much as snicker—” she threatened.

“You have my word!” He held a hand to his heart, his most honoree grin of satisfaction showing.

Hera rolled her eyes and stood in the middle of the room. Kanan watched, but his eyes couldn’t help but look at her. He loved it when she wore her pajamas. He loved the little feint details of green that swirled around the skin on the backs of her legs and arms. He loved the way that they had both become comfortable just being together like this—with nothing awkward about it at all.  _Well almost._

Kanan pointed as he spoke. “Your leg looks like it healed nicely.”

Hera’s smile dropped for a moment because his comment had taken her off guard. It had been a few weeks since she had been shot in the leg by pirates, but thanks to Kanan treating it every so often, there was hardly even a scar. It was nice of him to notice. Though, she couldn’t help but blush a little when she realized that he had been staring at her legs _—again._

“Thanks,” she said back, her sassy demeanor returning as she placed her hands on her hips. “But keep interrupting. You want to see this dance, or not?”

He held up his arms dismissively and motioned for her to continue.

It had been  _so long_. There wasn’t even any music. She hoped that she still remembered how to do this.

Her movements were brash, maneuvering almost as though she was digging rhythmically into the dirt. That turned into a soft pulling motion as one arm spun around the other and drew back and forth between the air and her chest. With a swift flick, her arms and right leg rose into the air and she twirled her back to him, her feet crossed now, and hips rocking slowly downward to the ground. She sprang back up into the air as though something had exploded with new life inside her and repeated the motions from the start of the dance.

Kanan watched, his jaw somewhat adjacent and his cheeks tickling with the new-found flush that he could not even attempt to hide from her. Just when he thought that she couldn’t get any more amazing— _as always_ —she just had to prove him wrong.

When Hera turned, there was a small smile on her face that had taken the place of the nerves she felt before. Kanan caught it, but only at a glance because as soon as she saw how completely red and flustered with awe he was, she stopped dancing abruptly and fumbled to face him.

Kanan was a little disappointed that she’d stopped, but he smiled wide and clapped for her anyway.

“Wow!” was all he could say.

“That was an old harvest dance…meant to signify the sun and the way that—” Hera blushed, stopping when she’d realized that Kanan was too dumbstruck to understand anything she was saying. She smiled at him and took in a breath. “You don’t still doubt me,  _do you?”_

He blinked and swallowed as his brain processed her question.

“Oh never!” he teased back.

She gave him the look and plopped down on the bed, pointing to the middle of the floor.

“Alright wise guy…” she said with a gleam in her eyes. “Your turn.”

Kanan nearly choked on his own spit.

“What!?”

“I danced for you,” she said in an accusatory way. “So, go on! Show me what you got!”

Kanan leaned forward.

“Dancing wasn’t really something the Jedi Council taught—”

“Don’t give me that,” she interrupted. “You and I danced on Rion, and you did just fine.”

“It’s different when there’s two people!” he complained.

“You  _owe me_  one, or don’t you remember…”

He snorted once with an amused grin, but didn’t budge.

“Not a chance.”

“Well… in that case, here!” she held out her hand. “I’ll teach you, but you have to do it too.”

He took her hand, if for nothing else than the simple fact that he wanted to touch her skin with his. He allowed her to lead him to the middle of the floor where Hera started showing him the maneuvers she made during her dance,  _forcing_  Kanan to follow along or receive a swift slap to the stomach.

Hera’s people only danced to distract themselves from the impending fight ahead of them. With their ship grounded on Tatooine, a bounty hunter after them, slaves in need of rescue, and the  _Ghost_ in need of repairs—all now coupled with these growing nightmares and stress—Kanan figured that this was the perfect night for a little distracted dancing.

“Kanan!” Hera said quickly. “Watch your footing!”

It was too late.

He ended up tripping over himself and falling right on top of her. As they landed, a loud thump erupted throughout the quiet spaceship, completely killing the peaceful quiet of the night.

“Sorry…” he groaned.

She winced. “I thought you Jedi were supposed to be more graceful?”

“Must’ve skipped that lesson.”

_“You don’t say…”_

”Hang on…”

He pushed himself upward, staring down at her until their eyes met. He froze then. Kanan had her pinned, but she just let him stay there. Hera was completely capable of removing him if she wished, but no such movements came. She just lay there,  _watching him._

Kanan felt the heat welling up inside of him, that desire to just touch her lips with his own in the simplest of ways. He leaned forward slowly and to his surprise, she allowed it. The permission there, he closed his eyes and parted his mouth, feeling that sweet breath of hers on his face as he leaned forward—

_Brt, Bzt, Beep, Beep, Boop, Phbt!_

Chopper rolled in suddenly, scolding them to keep it down, but when he took notice of the two on the floor, he shook his head with an exasperated groan of disgust. The droid turned and left the room, binary spouting off a hundred words a second, and if he had eyes, he would have been rolling them around, no doubt about it.

Kanan sprang upward quickly, his face flustered.

“Nothing happened!”

Chopper was not convinced.

“Hey!” he argued. “Chopper! I mean it…N-nothing happened!”

_Pbbbt!_

Kanan let his head fall in defeat, and Hera began to laugh.

“Let’s call it a night, okay?” she smiled.

He shut his eyes, but nodded reluctantly, and offered her a hand while they stood back to their feet.

“Alright. You still bunking with me?” He asked.

She thought about it for a moment and flicked under his chin with her finger.

“I’ll see you in the morning,” she teased, walking to grab her blanket and back out of the room. “Don’t want give Chopper any more reasons to be upset for the night.

Kanan knew it was his own fault. If he hadn’t suggested the dancing, then they would have been able to sleep in the same room, but it was for the best this way, _he guessed._

He shrugged. “Alright…” 

“Don’t sound so disappointed…” she raised her chin and looked down to him with a smirk.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. Go on and calm your droid down.” 

He gave her a goofy smile and  a wave before the door swooshed shut behind her.

Hera let out a surprised huff… Either she was crazy, or Kanan was getting a little more mature. He let her go without so much as an argument. That was a little out of character for him. Chopper must have  _really_  embarrassed him.  _It was kind of cute._

Chopper rolled up to her, shaking his head in a judgmental manner.

“Nothing happened!” Hera exclaimed.

Chopper hummed a  _‘yeah right’_  sound and rolled back to his charging port.

“Chopper!” She grumbled. “Keep that up and you and I are going to have to have a little talk.”

The droid groaned.

“What, you don’t want to talk? You had a lot to say a few minutes ago.”

He grumbled, and shook his head.

She shot him a sideways smirk, and made a motion across her lips.

“Then zip it and go back to sleep!”

He huffed reluctantly, but did not say anything further— _at least to her face._

“Goodnight, Chop,” she said.

He grumbled the phrase back to her because he knew that it was what she was waiting to hear. It prompted a soft smile out of her, so he knew that he was in the clear… _for now._

She watched him all the way back to his corner, her hands on her hips. As soon as he powered down, Hera let out a yawn and went back into her room to try and continue her sleep.

* * *

 

For the life of him, Chopper could not figure out the emotions of these two organics.

The man, he might expect as much out of—but the woman always seemed so level headed. Even so, Hera and Kanan were still experiencing these odd interactions with one another. Chopper would catch them fighting one minute, then hugging the next. They touched a lot, talked a lot, and they had almost kissed on more than one occasion, and that was all in the one day he’d known them.

While Chopper knew that he was programmed to recognize such interactions, he didn’t understand them at all.  _Why did organics feel the need to be so fickle with their emotions?_

But that much could wait.

Hera had said a few times today that the  _Ghost_ team needed to focus on the mission.

There were a few problems with that though.

For starters the ship was inoperable, and for some unknown reason, Hera seemed determined on going back to Jabba’s Palace as soon as they received repairs.

But, that wasn’t why Chopper was here.

So long as they were still on Tatooine, Chopper would be able to fulfill his original maker’s assignment… _his real mission._

He didn’t remember what he used to do before. It seemed his older memories had been cleared before he received his last assignment, and it was only  _that mission_ which led him on years of adventure and struggle.

This new crew couldn’t know about his real reasons for joining them on this ship known as the  _Ghost_ —not yet at least.

Still, he was glad that Hera had found him and taken him out of that Er’Kit’s custody.

Chopper scoffed when he remembered that old Er’Kit.

That lowly organic had lied to Hera. Chopper wasn’t his droid at all.

Chopper was on an escape pod on its way to Alderaan when the salvagers fished him off of his path. They were going to scrap him for parts, but he managed to escape their ship. His maker’s had equipped him with very powerful electroshock prod that could mimic the effect of their bo-rifles. He had used it to help him fight off his captors long enough to eject himself from the ship.

Chopper remembered floating through dead space, the silence was his only company for a long, long— _long_  time. He was running low on power, many of his circuits frozen. He thought that he had failed his mission—that he would deactivate in space all alone.

_But, then the pirates came._

Chopper was in need of repairs, but found himself captured and traded, once—twice—maybe three more times before getting back on a ship that was sailing around the outer rim.

In all that time, he had been picked apart and put back together. Replacement parts were given to him just as easily as they were stripped away. Hand-me-downs and parts that just weren’t in his model were gifted, but it only mattered if he could still operate, and so long as no one tampered with his holoprojector, he could cope with whatever ship he had to be on.

Chopper followed the various ships’ differing rules, whether they were smugglers, pirates, salvagers, or even bounty hunters. He would play it safe when on board, follow the rules, obey their commands, and all the while he would be feeding them information or locations that would get him closer to his target.

There was an organic’s signal that constantly showed on his internals. The target seemed to be moving rapidly throughout the inner and outer rims—always moving, never settling. It was years of chase and tag before he finally stopped on the Hutt controlled planet of Tatooine.

Chopper made arrangements with the group of bounty hunters that he was flying with at the time. They had no problems going to Tatooine, so tricking them there was no struggle.

They landed safely, but he should have known that there would be more complications to come. When the crew ventured into town without him, Chopper had found himself stolen by Jawas within a matter of hours.

After enduring the hardship of their salvaging, cleaning, and tampering, Chopper was finally sold to the Er’Kit on Tatooine. One problem… _he didn’t even own a star ship!_

To make matters worse, the Er’Kit had refused to repair him. Just the opposite in fact, he would shut Chopper down and take parts out of him to sell on the streets. After a short while, Chopper was in no shape to escape, so he was forced to lay and wait.

It was pure luck that the target had stopped running after all these years. Chopper himself had started to rust in the corner  _for what could have been_  months. He was helpless, hopeless, and growing more and more cynical with every day he was left unplugged.

Then Hera came along…and the Er’Kit powered him back on.

He was promised repairs in exchange that he help the salesman retrieve a ship. He only followed the orders when it promised him repairs. He might blame the pre-programming deep in his code—or maybe it just took him a little while to reboot after being shut down for so long, but Chopper agreed to the plan.

_He wasn’t thinking clearly._

Plus, Hera was different.

All of them only saw Chopper as a droid. They treated him like a machine, and when he got lost or separated from a ship, they never went looking for him. Though he was obligated to respect whoever had bought him. Chopper was sick of having to serve his constantly changing masters who never returned his loyalty.  

It had only been a day, but Hera and Kanan were starting to grow on him. Despite their fluctuating emotions, their constant bickering, and even their doubt in his skills—they were the first organics who were ever actually kind to him,  _aside from the makers._

Therein lies the second problem…Chopper found a conundrum within his original mission with Hera’s new one.

He truly did not want to leave the  _Ghost._ For once the old droid cared about how his actions would affect the lives of his crew _._ He enjoyed their company, and didn’t want to leave it.

If the target could just see that and be a part of this too—then Chopper could be happy. After all he’d been through, the Lasat owed him that much. For once, it wouldn’t be the crew he manipulated for the Lasat—it would be the Lasat who would be manipulated into this—this small dysfunctional, but loving little crew.

 _He would be safe here,_  Chopper thought.

He could keep tabs on him here.

It was a perfect plan!

Chopper wasn’t sure how he was going to do it, but he would need to prompt Hera and Kanan to meet with him, and take him aboard the  _Ghost_. He would need to become an ally— _completely unaware_  that Chopper was there to retrieve him one of these days when he got the signal from the makers.

They would need parts to fix the ship.

Chopper knew exactly what to say to convince Hera and Kanan that they would need another crew-mate. 

His plan would be started in the morning— _maybe_? He might sit on the idea for a day or two. What was the rush  _after all?_

* * *

 

“Another member?”

Chopper replayed his point to Hera and Kanan. He figured he would talk to them while they were working on the ship in order to keep any unnecessary suspicions off of him while they were distracted with work.

“We have another member, Chop…” Kanan rolled out from beneath the ship and pointed. “It’s you,  _congratulations._ ”

Chopper grunted.

“He’s got a point, _luv…_ ” Hera twisted the wrench and wiped the grease from her brow. “We  _did_  manage to make it out of the palace. But it’s been three days now and there hasn’t been one ship in or out of Tatooine. I’m beginning to think that our slave ship isn’t going to show.” She huffed. “And, they’re trying my patience! I say we take the offensive on this mission!”

“With the mess we managed to make last time we were there—” Kanan sighed. “Security is bound to be increased in Jabba’s Palace. It’ll be harder to get in now.”

 _“Meaning—”_  she hummed. “That an extra man on the inside might not be such a bad idea…”

“They do know our faces?” Kanan pondered aloud.

Hera stood up and shook her head.

“So it’s settled…”

“Alright then,” he set down his tools. “Did you have somebody in mind, Chop? Last time we went looking for a crew we wound up shorthanded—”

“Then we got you.” Hera wrinkled her nose at him.

Chopper beeped, but took the supposed compliment.

_Boop! Beep! Beep! Beep! Brt!_

“Hmm?” Hera hummed.  

“What?”

“Chopper seems to have a lock on just our guy. He says he was scanning potentials when we went into Mos Eisley yesterday for parts. Smart thinking.”

“And why would you do that?” Kanan gave the droid a suspicious look. “A little  _too convenient_  if you ask me?”

Chopper tried his best to keep his cool.

“He must have heard me complaining about it while I was fixing him up!” Hera said suddenly, prompting both Chopper and Kanan to look her way.

 _She covered for him?_  Chopper could tell that she was just as suspicious as Kanan was—but she still vouched for him.  _It was a kind gesture._  He would need to repay the favor later—maybe let the man kiss her once, or let her in on his secret plans from the makers.  _He wasn’t sure which one yet._

Kanan huffed once and set down his tools.

“Alright then…” He shrugged with a defeat in his voice. “You think that you can finish up here while we go out scouting?”

“I’ll have her all fixed up by the time you get back!” Hera nodded. “Better yet—I’ll meet you in town. You be sure to get our new addition to come and meet me.”

“You have a plan brewing already?” He gave her the look.

She nodded, a twinkle in her eye.

“You’re terrible…” Kanan grinned. “You know that?”

She rolled her eyes and shooed them away.

“Better get busy!” she winked. “You don’t want to keep me waiting…”

Kanan blushed.

There was no way she’d heard him call her his “wife” to the bounty hunter the other day _—right?_   No…it was just a phrase. _Keep it together Kanan._  She suspects nothing.

_Boop!_

Chopper hit him in the leg, and Kanan yelled once, rubbing the sore skin as the droid drug him away into town by the cloth on his pants.

“Don’t get into trouble!” Hera called after them.

“Come on!” He held up his hands. “It’s me! What could happen?”

“That’s what worries me…” she mumbled, her eyes rolling again as she went back to her work.

Without the  _Ghost,_ they wouldn’t be able to get the rest of Jabba’s slaves freed. 

 _Luckily,_  the dancers didn’t have transmitters implanted in their bodies—a custom for slaves living in the Hutt Palace. That way Jabba wouldn’t lose any of his property if one of them were somehow to detonate.

It would be as simple as picking them up, and flying them off of this rock.

Hera laughed to herself.

Even her brain made her think that the mission was that simple.

_If only it were so easy._

She needed a good plan…and she needed it with or without this possible new addition. She hopes Kanan would have good luck recruiting him. They could use the extra help, now more than ever.

* * *

 

“This the place, Chop?”

The droid buzzed in reply.

An old cantina. A very rough and dangerous cantina by the rumors and sounds coming from inside. It was the most popular place on Tatooine for a guy to get a drink. It was also so common for someone to get shot at around these parts that hardly anyone stopped to watch.

“What kind of people do you think we’re looking to recruit, Chop?”

Chopper buzzed, and Kanan made a face.

“This is  _NOT_  like the place where Hera found me!” He defended.

Chopper was not swayed.

He and Hera had been having a lot of conversations while he was helping to repair the ship. Chopper had learned a lot about his new crew, their origins, and even a few things that he picked up on his own. The relationship Hera and Kanan shared was still a mystery, but their strategy was honed as though they had been together for years. It had been approximately three years since Hera says she plucked Kanan out of Gorse.  _Was that a story!_  Chopper figured that the man had most likely been a bum. Good to know his assumptions were true.

Chopper buzzed as he reminded Kanan of his origins to the  _Ghost._

“But—”Kanan recalled the similarities as the droid spoke, and he shook the thoughts away.“Just come on!”

They entered the bar only to have an alarm go off upon entry.

_BEE-BEE-BEE-BEEP!_

_So much for stealth?_

“We don’t serve their kind here!” The bartender roared from behind the counter. “The droid will wait outside!”

Kanan scoffed, but refused to draw any more attention to them.

He knelt down and whispered at Chopper, pretending to tell him to leave, but asking something else entirely. 

“So where is he? Did you see him in there?”

Chopper nodded, and motioned to a figure in the corner who sat alone and un-bothered. By the look of him—his size, his strength, and the way he brooded alone—Kanan couldn’t help but get the slightest bit curious. He had never seen a creature like him before. He was interesting enough for an interview at the very least.

An impatient grumble from the bartender beckoned at Kanan, so he turned and shoved Chopper back out the door,  _much to the small droid’s protest._

Chopper knew Kanan could take these guys! From the stories he heard, Kanan was unintelligent, but at least he could win in a fight! The old astromech wanted a piece or two of that rude organic behind the bar himself. His claws out, Chopper rolled into Kanan’s leg, beckoning for a fight, but the man wouldn’t let him pass.

“Hey! Chop!” Kanan stopped the fiery droid’s threats and shoved him away from the door, pointing towards the desert. “Just go back to the ship and wait for Hera, okay?”

He argued.

“I know…but Hera told us not to get in any trouble.” Kanan eased the next part of his sentence out as though he were tricking a child into following orders. “You go get her—I’ll deal with our guy. Don’t worry. I got this handled.”

The droid didn’t like it, and cursed all the way down the road, but he did as he was told.

“And try not to get stolen!” Kanan called softly.

_Beep! Beep! Boop! Bpt!_

Kanan rolled his eyes at the vulgar response that had come from the little astromech droid.

It had been like this for the last three days. Chopper was a helpful droid, true… But Kanan had never met a pushier, more aggravating, or downright stubborn robot in all his life. He thought that all astromech’s were supposed to be helpful and cooperative— _loyal to a fault?_  Hera must have forgotten to reinstall that chip in Chopper.

With the droid out of sight, Kanan turned to head back inside. As he entered through the doorway, he was relieved to notice that not a single soul paid him any attention, not even the grouchy bartender.

_Maybe this wouldn’t be so hard after all?_

With that in mind, Kanan walked over calmly, and took a seat next to the stranger.

_Time to make new friends._

_This should be fun._


End file.
